Tattooed Illusions (BxB)

N I N E

Jeong's almost pitch black eyes narrowed into slits, anger clouding his pupils like a brewing storm."What did you just say?" A low, hostile growl bubbled up from his throat, slipping past his crimson colored lips.

"You heard me, asshole," Bodhi Knox responded. On his face was a proud smirk and mischief circled through his hazel orbs.

Jeong stepped closer, inches away from Bodhi's face, and snarled in a menacing way. "Stupidity isn't your best color, Knox."

Eyebrows rose, he blinked at the fuming wolf. "What is my best color then, faggot?" As soon as he said the words, Jeong pounced, animalistic growls spilling from his lips, while his knuckles collided with the other boy's jaw repeatedly.

Down his chin poured a dark, scarlet liquid, as he narrowed his dark eyes at the body lying on the cold, tiled floor. As soon as the unmistakable sound of a rib snapping echoed through the crowded halls, Jeong knew it was time to analyze the damage he caused.

From his observation, he found out he sprained both of his wrists, painted his clothes in crimson, snapped his arm in half. Jeong wiped the blood from his chin, a dangerous glint swirling through his irises.

His fists were clenched at his sides. He tried to slow down his heartbeat that was pounding beneath the fabric of his shirt.

Weaving through the roaring crowd demanding another fight, Jaehyung stood before his brother, chesnut orbs clouded with frustration.

"Jeong," Jaehyung groaned, irration evident in his tone. "What the hell did he even do?"

Aggressively threading his hand through his ebony locks, Jeong responded. "He called me a faggot."

His tone morphed into anger, as a low growl rose from his throat. When it comes to Jaehyung, homophobia, especially against his brother, and racism anger him beyond words.

Asshole, Jaehyung mutters to himself.

Fights were a common theme at Meadowsville. Most of them were caused by someone's stupidity.

In the muted bedroom of Apollo Jansen, Heidi crosses his arms over his chest, his toned chest peaking through his shirt.

"Apollo," he snaps, saying his name as if its poison on his tongue. "I've tried! Okay? I've tried so fucking hard. You have seen the scars," his voice reduces to a mere whisper, his pleading gaze shattering Apollo's heart into millions of pieces. "I know I'm an idiot. Every time I consume the substances that hold my life in their grasp, I feel worthless and-"

"No!" Apollo's heart hammers in his chest, fury washing over his body, and clouding his irises of pistachio green. "Heidi, listen to me.... please," his voice broke at the last word. "You're not worthless. Not at all. You're worth so much more than you give yourself credit for. And it pains me so fucking much to see you hurting because you are my best friend. I care about you."

Heidi bites the inside of his cheek to prevent the salty tears from filling his gaze. "You can cry, you know," Apollo whispers, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Wordlessly, Heidi falls into Apollo's embrace, the fabric of his demin jacket in his grasp, sobbing breathlessly into his navy tshirt.

"Please don't leave me, Apollo." Hiccups bubble past Heidi's lips.

Bemused, Apollo softly replies. "Why would you think I'd leave you?"

"Because they all do," he admits, his words slurred. "I'm not worth saving."

Apollo almost scoffs. "Everyone's worth saving if someone cares enough. I'm not leaving you," he assures him.

Apollo's familiar scent wafting in the air, Heidi sniffles, wiping his tears with his oversized, sweater sleeve. When it came to Heidi, Apollo was defenseless. Apollo often found himself drowning in his pools of chocolate syrup, basking in their honey colored beauty under the sunlight.

The features of his face were rather feminine, a contrast to Apollo's. The soft features on his face juxtaposed his chiseled jawline and thick, dark eyebrows. Whereas Heidi was lean with a less physical build than his best friend, Apollo's muscular arms were decorated with exposed veins, hidden beneath his tattoos. Heidi's arms were covered by long sleeves, while Apollo let his arms show, apart from the demin jacket he wore. Despite the differences in their appearances, however, both of them sacrificed as much as they could for each other.

Journey pulled the small blanket tighter around his body, to protect himself against the bone-chilling cold.
Outside, wind howled and sheets of icy rain pelted onto the ground. The redheaded boy quivered in the dark, his quiet cries silenced. Journey's blue eyes were wide and frightful, as he watched the assault onto the window.
Against his ribcage pounded his heart.

The sky darkened, wrapping a blanket around itself, offering protection from the biting air. In the charcoal sky, a growl bubbled, as anger dominated the battle, letting animalistic roars collide with the freezing rain.

Journey has always been fearful of thunderstorms, unless he was fast asleep during their presence. As a child, he'd hide under his blankets, encasing himself in their warmth. His stepbrother laughed dryly at his fear, almost as if he was a hungry predator taunting their prey.

Jeong let out a muffled groan, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "What the hell, Journey? Why aren't you asleep?"

Ironically, Jeong wasn't overwhelmed with sleep, either. For an hour, he had tossed back and forth, in an attempt to coax his eyes close. Because he rarely ever slept at night, apart from two or three hours, he'd sleep through most of his early classes and ask his teachers for the assignments. Most of them eagerly caught him up because they've noticed his lack of sleep. Jeong made himself to do at least half of the work to maintain a passing grade.

"I-I don't like thunderstorms," Journey confessed, his voice a whisper.

Jeong arched an eyebrow, shocked sewn into his facial features, as he wondered how anyone can repulse thunderstorms. Thunderstorms were a beautiful, fucking mixture of rain, thunder, and lightning. A musical choreographed to absolute perfection, shocking the glistening stars sitting in the audience.